


Playing the Game

by rhiannonsgypsy



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018), Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018) RPF
Genre: F/M, Spellwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-14 21:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17516084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhiannonsgypsy/pseuds/rhiannonsgypsy
Summary: It was all a game. But, that game provoked some very real consequences.





	1. Pt. I

Despite her rather rigid present day piousness, there were, in fact, certain things that Zelda Spellman had always been partial to.

Simple things such as Autumn and its crisp air, taking a drag of a light cigarette, ripened strawberries coated in rich chocolate, the burn of straight vodka on the inside of her throat, the smell of her mother's perfume that she used to sneak into her bed chambers and spray as a child. Simply, trivial things that usual witches couldn't truly  _explain_ their fascination for. Zelda, however,  _could_ explain precisely why she enjoyed such things.

She preferred her cigarettes light because she desired a calming nicotine rush but didn't care for the feeling of tar coating her lungs. She enjoyed the trivial contrast on her tongue between the sweetness of chocolate and the sourness to strawberries. Vodka was her preferred drink of choice as it was bitter and toxic and got the job done quicker than any other poison she'd tried. Her mother's perfume went without saying. It smelled of sophistication and of  _home._ But, of all Zelda's partialities, it was the Autumn that evoked a rather intriguing enjoyment from her.

She liked it because it was the least romanticized of all the seasons. It was dark, it was gloomy, it could be downright dreary at times. It does not come with the joys of Christmas, nor with the hope of Spring, or the pleasure of Summer. It was just _Fall_ _._ She enjoyed knowing how reliable it was. No matter how erratic the year had been, Autumn always comes. It marks the end of the Summer humidity but provides a chilly warmth before the frosty winter.

Not only that, but it marks the Season of the Witch, something that even mortals refer to. It was during the month of October that the coven didn't feel quite so out of place among the world. But, there was something even simpler to Zelda's fascination with Autumn. She liked seeing the leaves change colour, she enjoyed watching the trees shed their dead baggage and begin anew, even if they were left jagged and homely for a few months. She liked the smell of the air, the crunch under her feet, the darkness that came early in the afternoon.

The biggest fondness in Zelda's life, however, had always been  _games._

It all started off innocently enough as a young thing, learning to feel the thrill of the chase and the height of victory through harmless games played with friends. For Zelda, she'd never really known if it had been the possibility of personal triumph that had drawn her to such things and contests, or if it was the very enactment of the game itself that ensnared her ever-lingering interest.

Be it a good old-fashioned mortal jump rope competition in the schoolyard during their recess hour or a mind game played with enchanted cards, Zelda always loved to play. She'd been a mere child, and yet she still understood all the highs and lows of competition. There was nothing more than mental dexterity - and perhaps a dash of luck - to it. Something that, fortunately for her, she'd always seemed to possess. She understood the psychology behind playing games and coming out victorious, perhaps that was why most other children eventually refused to participate in such tricks with her. That, however, was the triumph. Knowing that others of her kind wouldn't dare challenge her to even the most harmless game of marbles. Because, if no one was willing to compete against her, then she'd already won.

Her games soon took on a new form when she reached adolescence. Zelda hadn't held on to her childhood for very long, she'd been merely nine years old when her parents died and by then, she was ready and willing to give up playing with dolls and magic tops. If not for anything but the sake of her younger siblings, Zelda grew up overnight.

She'd always been mature, but after her parents left their mortal realm, Zelda Spellman became emotionally adult. Which, ironically enough, meant shutting off her  _own_ emotions so as to not have them overcrowd her mind or cloud her feeble judgement. She'd known that it was her parents' wishes to have her follow in the path of Night and pledge allegiance to the Dark Lord, in every way possible. And Zelda was not about to fail her deceased parents -  _that_ was not a game to her.

From that point on, she continued to play her games, but they were now at the expense of other people. Specifically, those who were weaker and less powerful than she. Some might say that there was some kind of hidden meaning to Zelda's mind games that appropriated her vicious behaviour, they say that perhaps she simply couldn't stand seeing people helpless and drowning in a sea of their own powerlessness. That she tortured them in hopes of giving them a backbone that, without her, they may never grow.

More than that, perhaps Zelda Spellman was constantly in a state of questioning her own abilities - physical and psychological - and by stepping on those who were weak, she would always appear stronger. Who knew, really. To most people, Zelda Spellman torments because she can and because she so enjoys doing so. There's no rhyme or reason to it.

The sinister mind games that are infinitely worse than the kind that young mortal preteens play with each other thanks to the use of their magical abilities soon fade as the teenage years approach. But, when Zelda officially begins classes at the Academy of Unseen Arts, those games seemed positively harmless in comparison to the brutal harrowings that she begins to host.

It all began when the Demon Twins - Mildred and Pepper Maleficum - attempted to harrow  _her._ On Zelda's very first night at the Academy, they'd taken notice of her presence and deemed her a suitable new candidate for the harrowings. They'd woken her in the middle of the night and thrown her into that damp, dark chamber where the Greendale Thirteen had been held all those years ago to see if she could survive the night without going mad. Quite unfortunately for the twin sisters who used to positively  _rule_ the social scene of the Academy, they had severely underestimated the witch that they'd attempted to harrow.

Zelda Spellman was not only a stunningly beautiful teenage girl with an eloquent way of speaking and a voice like honey, but she was more intelligent than anyone could know. She'd devoted plenty of her attention to mastering every aspect of the dark arts that she possibly could, and she'd cast a spell to pry the heavy chamber door open within seconds and wreaked her own havoc on the Demon Twins only moments later.

By morning, the Academy had a brand new head witch in charge - she was sixteen years old, she wore revealingly tasteful clothing, she smoked cigarettes as if they were candy, and she had a head of soft red curls. The name  _Zelda Spellman_ wouldn't soon be forgotten among those legendary hallways and century-old classrooms.

She became the queen of anything and everything that happened around the Academy. She was the queen of the courtyard, the queen of the classroom, the queen of the party scene, the choir queen, but above all else, she was queen of the harrowings. She'd replaced Mildred and Pepper as the most popular girl in school, and the rest of the attractive and well known - but,  _not_ as attractive and well known as  _her_ \- witches and warlocks in her tight inner circle were less friends as they were minions. Placed meaningfully not at her side, but right behind her, to support her decisions, spread her good word, and maintain her popularity as she selected pitiful witches and warlocks to harrow out of their sensible wits night after night.

Of course, there was no one to change the way that Zelda ran the Academy. Who would dare? Most of the students  _wished_ that she would harrow them simply to say that they had held a bit of her valued attention. They were all terrified of her, but that wasn't all. They loved her. They worshiped the very dirt that met the bottom of her shoes, they followed her word as if it was taken straight from the Satanic Bible - which, plenty of times, it was - and more than anything, they loved how much they  _hated_ her.

Jealousy was abundant. The rest were dripping with malice at how easily Zelda Spellman could bat an eye and cast a spell on the young warlocks that looked her way. It was terrible envy-provoking because the spell was merely figurative. In reality, she didn't  _need_ use any magic for the men to swoon. Perhaps if she  _did_ use love potions and lust spells, it would be easier for the others to accept.

But, the harrowings? They were merely a glorified version of the games that Zelda had always loved to play. She participated because there was no question of whether or not she would win. She had all the power, there was no competition, no chance of losing. The  _game_ was watching her victims wither away into the dead of the night at her hand. Betting on whether or not they would crack and break under the pressure of the darkness, if thy would cry out for their mothers, if they would see the morning light with their senses intact.

It wasn't until Faustus Blackwood came into her life that Zelda Spellman was introduced to a whole other kind of game. Until him, whenever she wanted a warlock in a physical or emotional sense - though, up until then, it had only ever been physical - she got him. Whomever it was had simply been granted a privilege of unmeasurable treasure. Faustus was different. He finally offered her a game where she did  _not_ hold all the winning cards, and it was thrilling. So thrilling, that she soon became addicted.

He'd come to the Academy a year after she. Thus granting Zelda enough time to establish her place as the most prominent witch on campus. Not only that, but certainly the most desirable. Faustus Blackwood was no exception to that, of course. He wanted her just as badly as everyone else at the Academy, perhaps - for reason that he wouldn't soon fess up to - even more so. And Zelda wanted him, too. Which is precisely why she thought it would be easy.

As if she could flash him a smile, maybe even hazard a wink in his direction, and just like that, she'd have him. Well, one look into his deviously blue eyes and she knew that it couldn't happen that way. Because, looking him in the face, she realized that she  _despised_ him, hated him even. But, more than anything, she hated how badly she  _wanted_ him. And she  _hated_ how much he  _knew_ that.

If there was one thing that Zelda could never seem to relinquish, it was power. And when it came to Faustus, she suddenly found herself without all the possible power. He had his own fair share, and it was sinfully attractive.

Since day one, they'd started playing their little game. It was a glance here, a seemingly accidental brush of skin there, a lowered voice in a dark room, and enough tempestuous dare in their eyes to set an entire forest ablaze as they tempted each other until they nearly broke in half. The game worked so well - both of them constantly battling for the upper hand, fighting to remain powerful - because they were equally prideful just as much as they were attracted to each other. Zelda had  _never_ before had to beg for a warlock and Faustus had certainly never had to work this hard to attain a witch. It was a delicious game that they played, but neither of them could help wondering if they should just say to hell with their pride and give in to the other's temptations.

The first round of the game had decidedly been an even tie. Because, while his hands had been wrapped around her waist, hers rested on his chest. And neither of them could remember who moved closer to the other first, but they'd both leaned in at the same time. They'd both been responsible for the meeting of their lips for the very first time, and thank Satan for that. Neither should think that they'd have lasted much longer had they not decided to end their little contest for the time being. Of course, the following morning, after they'd both washed the scent of each other off their bodies though the smell of her perfume lingered on his bedsheets - much to his irritation - the second round of the game began.

They'd both thoroughly enjoyed the company of each other's bodies once, and it was sure to happen again, that was without question. But, who would break first? Who would be the first to give in to the other and beg for another chance at ecstasy? This round was far more painful and tricky. They both had cards up their sleeves, and they both had fiery souls that weren't prone to accepting embarrassment nor failure.

In fact, it went on for  _months._ Just when she thought she'd won him, he would look the other way. And vice versa. Because, when Faustus found himself nearly succumbing to her charms and crawling back to her, he would steel himself and start sleeping with one of Zelda's closest friends. In retaliation, Zelda had sought him out - though, of course, she'd pretended that it was merely accidental - while wearing nothing more than a thin nightdress in need of assistance as she'd been locked out of her room.

Not only could Zelda use a simple enchantment to open her door, she had the ability to pick just about any lock under the sun. But, regardless of whether or not Faustus knew that, he went to her aid. She knew that he could never resist a submissive woman, someone playing the sweet, innocent prey to his powerful predator. And she knew that it was rather old fashioned, and that she could squash him like a bug under her foot should she need, but there was something about a man of power that always seemed to get under her skin.

So, she played along. And it was after he'd unlocked the door for her and she'd tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while looking up at him as if he'd just granted her the key to the universe as she expressed her gratitude that he lost the second round of their game. This time, the win had undoubtedly gone to her. She'd played her cards immaculately, even Faustus himself would admit that. Because, seeing her soft and defenceless had gotten to him. And, in that moment, he had to have her. So, he did. And quite frankly, he was okay with that. Because, he knew full well that it would not be their last round in the game.

He was right. This little game of theirs went on for years. Back and forth, a win here, and a loss there, a tie every now and then, until they both graduated at the top of their classes. Sometimes, the game was easier to win. If Zelda had been having a specifically rough time, she'd go to him more often than non. Neglecting to even put up a fight. And there were times when Faustus decided that he simply didn't care. His pride had become rather unchangeable when it came to her. Oftentimes, he felt like he didn't need to fight, he didn't need to pretend not to want her, he was perfectly fine with admitting to her face that he wanted her -  _needed_ her, even.

Faustus had jumped a year, thanks to his talents and gifts with respect to the dark arts, so they were on track to graduate together. Not  _together,_ mind you. That was one thing that was always certain. Neither of them were the type. They were young, they were attractive, and they had no interest in monogamy. That was the image that they both projected, and they intended on keeping it that way.

Meanwhile, there truly were some very real feelings brewing beneath the surface. Because eventually, they would stop going to each other when they were in need of physical satisfaction. Faustus would go to her when he felt as though he was failing academically, simply because he needed to hear the sound of her voice and he knew that she would say all the words that he needed to hear. And Zelda found herself going to him when she needed to feel less alone in the world, desiring to feel him stroke her bad as she laid her head on his shoulder.

And in those moments, there was nothing lewd or covert. No ulterior motives - most of the time. Ray moments, tender moments, those were the dangerous ones.

They weren't together, but they were far closer to it than anything else during that last year they spent at the Academy. At that point, their game was put on hold. Because, they no longer needed to dance around their desire for each other, they simply acted upon it. Sure, there was nothing monogamous about it. They took others into their bedchambers occasionally, though plenty of times it was only to spite the other.

Although, they both recognized the fact that when it was anyone else, it just wasn't as good. Perhaps that was because they'd had enough time to memorize the other's pleasures and master the art of seduction. Perhaps it was because they shared emotional depth that they lacked with anyone else. Most likely, it was a bit of both. Though, they'd both be damned before admitting to anything of the sort.

That year was agreeably the best for both of them. The relationship that they cultivated - though they certainly wouldn't call it that - was something to be cherished. They actually grew to  _like_ each other. Of course, they were physically attracted to each other, that was the basis of it all. But, while they were sleeping with each other, they'd actually formed something that was almost closed to a real friendship.

They spent time together that wasn't simply in the bedroom, they argued concepts back and forth, they discussed theories and school work, they laughed together over shared drinks at parties. It was - dare I say - a  _happy_ time. For the both of them. But, it was all a little bittersweet. While it was fun while it lasted, they both knew that come graduation, it would all be over.

Zelda was set to leave the country whereas Faustus was set to devote his life to the Dark Lord on a higher level, ready to spend eternity with the Church of Night right there in Greendale. Of course, Zelda was not straying from the church, but she was leaving to study other things, to further her dark academics. And she hadn't been expecting anything of the sort, but had Faustus dared to open his mouth and ask her to stay with him, she would have. Without so much as a second thought. Instead, they never even said goodbye to each other, for fear that tears may be shed.

If there was one thing that neither of them were going to do, it was admit to any deeper feelings that may have developed beyond their raw carnal interest. They didn't work that way. They were creatures of the night, desire was all that they thought of, all they needed. So, Faustus Blackwood and Zelda Spellman did  _not_ entice some grand mortal-like love affair. They did not embrace in a passionate farewell, they did not change their minds at the last minute and run back to each other, professing their eternal love for one another.

They slept together.

One last time, though neither of them mentioned that it was the last. They both knew. And it was not what it usually was. It was not fiery, nor was it rough, it was nothing like how they'd usually carried out the physical act together. It was passionate, and it was almost  _sad_ as they cherished each other's bodies and presence one last time before they went their separate ways.

They made love.

And the movements of their bodies and the feelings of their lips crashing together sweetly spoke all the words that would never truly be voiced. Then, they dressed, Faustus winked, Zelda smiled, and she left the room in the dead of the night. When morning came, she left the Academy, and by the end of the day, she was in Europe. As for Faustus, he'd been transferred to another Academy near Greendale where he would continue to study in hopes of one day becoming a High Priest or something of the likes.

During the next three years, Zelda had been through France, Germany, Switzerland, Russia, and Italy. She'd learned languages, different forms of witchcraft, coven history, and plenty more. She'd grown from an influential teenager to a powerful woman, and there was positively no going back. She didn't change, however. She was still the same Zelda Spellman that she'd always been and always would be.

Meanwhile, back in Greendale, Faustus mentored her younger brother. He put his energy, time, and faith into Edward Spellman, he'd let his guard down, just as he'd done with the boy's older sister. And in the end, it all came back to bite him. On both fronts.

Autumns came and went as the seasons changed and the months apart went by. Oftentimes, they didn't even think of each other. It was never like that, it was never a full and true affair of the heart - at least, they'd convinced themselves that it wasn't.

Whatever the reality was, they refused to acknowledge it let alone accept it. So, they allowed themselves to carry on with their lives, their studies, their relationships. Life went on, wherever they went - or didn't go. Together or apart.


	2. Pt. II

It was Autumn. Zelda Spellman's favourite time of year. And a homecoming was upon her.

Zelda returned to Greendale to see her brother become ordained as the High Priest of the Church of Night. She'd already been planning on coming home to Greendale before receiving the news, but it had finalized her decision. She had to admit, she was nervous. She hadn't seen Hilda for nearly five years. Her younger sister had never been cut out for life at the Academy of Unseen Arts, and she'd transferred to a far nicer school in England after mere months of attending the Academy.

Though they didn't speak of it during their brief correspondence with each other, Zelda knew that it was her own harrowing that had sent Hilda running. It was something that, deep down, she felt terrible about. But, Hilda's wellbeing had always been in Zelda's best interest. Her sister was too thin-skinned, she believed. Too soft for her own good. A little harrowing might be of some value to her future. It hadn't worked out the way that Zelda had hoped.

Which is why she was nervous to come home to her sister and brother in Greendale and finally settle down in her coven. But, she was ready, nerves and all.

It was on the ship's voyage back to America that Zelda had plenty of time to consider all that she might be coming home to. There was the matter of Hilda, who was always a bit of a wild card in Zelda's books. There was Edward, who hopefully wouldn't have changed too much upon receiving such a prestigious tittle. But, there was one other person tugging at the back of her mind - Faustus Blackwood.

She knew full well that he'd been mentoring her brother, that little arrangement had been  _her_ doing in the first place. When she'd heard that Edward had evidently surpassed Faustus and was being ordained as High Priest as opposed to him, well, she had no  _idea_ what exactly that meant. The man was likely bitter. At Edward, at her, at the very world.

She'd always known him to be fiercely competitive, and his fragile ego had provided him with quite the temper. She might not only be coming home to a stranger, but to a monster. Though, she had to remind herself, she was  _not_ going home to him, in any way. She was simply going home. And he would be there. Kind of. Quite frankly, she didn't even know if she'd  _see_ him.

What Zelda did not know, however, was that their little game was still very much in effect. She wasn't expecting to see him at her brother's ceremony. It seemed as though it might only rub salt in the wound for poor Faustus, but he was there, nonetheless. She had no idea what he was playing at by attending, but he sat in one of the very first rows and didn't speak a word.

When Zelda entered the dark chapel, she saw him immediately, but knew that she had no right to speak to him, so she went to her family first. Her brother stood off to the side, nervously awaiting the commencement of the ceremony, so she joined him, with Hilda at her side, and attempted to calm his nerves through a casual but reassuring conversation.

Though she knew that she should have been focusing all her attention on her anxious brother, Zelda noted that Hilda seemed to have that situation all under control - she'd always been the more nurturing between the two sisters. Which is why Zelda allowed herself a glance at the familiar man who sat in the stone pew on the other side of the chapel. It became clear now that he'd noticed her arrival.

In fact, he'd heard the clacking of her shoes on the stone and knew in his  _gut_ who it was simply by the pattern of her steps. When Faustus turned to see her recognizable figure clad in black, he felt a surge of unwanted feelings begin to bubble back up inside of him. If Zelda acknowledged his own presence, she did so subtly. But now, their eyes met, and silent words were inevitably spoken.

He looked grown up. Faustus Blackwood had always been audaciously handsome as a young warlock back when Zelda and he first met, but now, he had blossomed into a dangerously charming man. He even seemed taller than before, if that was at all possible, and his eyes seemed more matured. Zelda could tell simply by looking into those eyes from across the room that he was taunting her, teasing her, tantalizing her as he dared her to give in to the game that they'd always played.

Not about to be overcome quite so easily, Zelda decided to throw him a curveball by mustering up as much pious carelessness as she could and walking straight over to him. Rather caught off guard, Faustus stood from his seat, but said nothing. She didn't even speak to him, hardly looked his way - though a knowingly teasing air remained settled on her face - but took a seat directly next to him. Faustus noted that she was not looking in his direction, and yet he could still see the smirk on her lips and the glint in her eyes that told him one thing and one thing only - game on.

He wanted to gaze upon her face, to take in any changes that might have graced her form in the few years that they'd been apart, but he wouldn't grant her that satisfaction. Not if he wanted to win this round. Instead, he sat there, and tried to forget her. After the ceremony began, he found he didn't need to try to pry his mind away from the woman sitting next to him, because now all his attention was forced upon Edward Spellman, as the younger man received the title that Faustus had worked his whole life to gain himself.

He sat there in his cold seat with gritted teeth. By all rights, it should have been Faustus granted the title of High Priest by the Dark Lord. He knew that there had to be more to this little plot twist than met the eye, the Dark Lord worked in mysterious ways. But, for right now, it simply seemed like Edward Spellman was getting everything he ever wanted. And everything that, in Faustus's opinion, he did not deserve.

Zelda could feel the man beside her filled with all kinds of tension, but she didn't want to look his way. And her sudden insecurity had nothing at all to do with their game. She knew Faustus must have been more angry than ever before in this moment,  _she_ certainly would be. More importantly, he'd be looking for someone to blame. And she was eternally afraid that he was presently blaming  _her._ She had appeared before Faustus that day all those years ago to introduce her younger brother and suggest that Faustus take him under his wing. That was all  _her_ doing, and now Faustus sat dejected and furious. He simply  _had_ to be enraged at her, and she didn't look his way because she couldn't bear to see the hatred that undeniably would reside in his eyes for her.

The truth of the matter was that she was very wrong. Yes, there were times when Faustus blamed and despised Zelda for all that had happened with her brother, but more often than not, the blame never fell on her. When he thought of Zelda Spellman, he thought of pleasant times, the happiest moments of his life. He held little to no real malice for her. But, she had been right about one thing - he  _was_ looking for someone to blame.

And, on the surface, he blamed Edward himself. It was a suitable response to the situation, but for the most part, it was all one big lie. In reality, there was one person and one person that Faustus blamed more than anyone on Earth - himself.

Nonetheless, Zelda blamed herself. But, she couldn't help but feel conflicted. Her brother was being rewarded, shouldn't that have meant the world to her? But, one man had been sacrificed for the other. It was usually how things like this went. Zelda was simply glad that it had been Faustus for Edward and not the other way around, was she not? She wasn't quite sure as she now sat beside the sacrificial lamb of a man that looked more like a wolf in sheep's clothing than anything.

It was when Faustus began to clench his fists so tightly that Zelda feared his sharp nails might puncture his skin that she sighed and couldn't resist any longer. They weren't children anymore, if she needed to comfort him, she would do so. Rather timidly, she reached over ever so cautiously and, without even looking at him, placed her own hand inside his.

Faustus was clearly taken aback for a moment, before all the tension was released from his body and instead, he held her hand as tenderly as that man could manage. It was a moment that neither of them would ever speak of, as it was so uncharacteristic and there was no real reason to, but it was a necessary moment. It was the least that Zelda could do after all that she'd caused him. By offering her hand, she was succumbing to him. She had granted him the ability to do whatsoever he pleased with that delicate hand of hers. Perhaps he'd like to squeeze it as tightly as he'd been doing to his own before and bloody her hand, releasing all his anger for her, for Edward, for himself out onto her. Instead, he'd relaxed. He'd allowed himself to remember the good times, the gentleness of her touch, the familiar feeling of her smooth skin. It spoke measures.

The reception that followed Edward's ceremony was not small by no means. An ordaining of a High Priest was no small matter, and the party afterwards had always been rather legendary.

Faustus couldn't bear to be there much longer, and he truthfully had no desire to stand around and celebrate his failure. The drinking, he was interested in, but he could do that within the walls of his own home. After the ceremony, he and Zelda had risen from their seated positions as everyone else around them had, but Faustus knew that it was time he left. And he did so, after pressing a chaste kiss to Zelda's hand - which, unbeknownst to either of them, still remained curled inside his own - with a look of temptation on his face that she truly had to fight against acting upon.

But, there was a fury remaining behind his eyes that could not be ignored. It was not directed at her, it was simply festering inside of him, and it needed an outlet. So, when he arrived back to his dark home on the edge of the Greendale woods, he tore apart his furniture. Throwing his dining room chairs one by one onto the parlor coffee table and watching them all crack and break. A china cabinet once filled with ceramic was now nothing but various shards of glass and clay. He needed to get it all out, if it was at the expense of his home, so be it.

Meanwhile, the reception went on. And of course, Edward just  _had_ to drop a bomb on Zelda's entire evening. Unbeknownst to her, Edward had been seeing someone. A  _mortal_ woman with mortal skin and mortal bones and a mortal name.  _Diana._ The entire coven knew, even Hilda. But, Zelda had been kept in the dark due to Edward's fear of her reaction.

Needless to say, everyone  _else_ enjoyed the reception.

Zelda herself had fled from the party upon meeting Diana and feeling as though the young  _mortal_ was not only nowhere near good enough for her brother, but going to be the very death of him. Edward would surely be facing some serious repercussions from the Dark Lord, and yet there he was, being granted the title of High Priest. It didn't quite add up, and that terrified the life out of Zelda.

Clearly, Satan knew of their engagement, and he couldn't be happy about it. Which meant, what? That ordaining Edward was merely a stepping stone that would lead to his untimely demise at the hand of the Dark Lord? Zelda had no idea. Their horned Unholiness works in mysterious ways, but almost always destructive to those who wrong him. Edward promising his life to the coven but also promising his hand and heart to a mortal was nothing if not redundant. And Zelda was smart. She wouldn't be surprised if Edward perished tomorrow.

Suddenly, she understood it all. Edward had never surpassed Faustus, he didn't  _earn_ the title of High Priest over him, it was given to him by the Dark Lord as all part of his plan to destroy him. Satan planned to kill Edward in order to get him out of the way, but he needed to make an example of him. He was committing a high treason by promising marriage to a mere mortal, and the Dark Lord was  _not_ at all happy about it. But, he needed to be ordained as a High Priest in order for Satan himself to demonstrate to his disciples that even the most powerful among them could not change His unholy will. If a High Priest went against witch law, even he could be struck down in his prime.

This realization sent Zelda into a frenzy, and she too needed an outlet for her fragile emotions. So, she ran. She ran right to Faustus Blackwood's door.

She feared that her feverish knocking might not even be heard over the crashes that were coming from inside as Faustus continued to tear apart his home, but she was not above knocking several times should she need to.

In a state of furious rage, Faustus threw open the door violently, a dangerous snarl on his face and a thundery fire behind his eyes that  _immediately_ softened upon seeing Zelda Spellman standing outside his door with tears in her own wide eyes. She was the last person that he'd expected to see, and he certainly wasn't prepared for her flurried state. It appeared as though the two of them were far more broken that they'd previously let on, and right now, they had hit rock bottom.

He realized that he had absolutely no reason to be surprised to see her there. But, in all his fury, he'd forgotten all about their little game. He'd forgotten about that daring kiss to her hand and the tempestuous look he'd given her, seducing Zelda Spellman right back into his arms once more. But, merely meeting her eyes served as distraction enough from his state of rage, and Faustus' anger had been quenched. Though, he now understood that it had  _not_ been his chaste kiss to her hand that had brought her here. It was her own desperation.

Faustus loosened the tension in his face and shoulders, his eyes coming to a simmer as he finally allowed himself to take in her face. The European sun had illuminated bright freckles upon her fair cheeks, but her expressively blue eyes hadn't changed a bit. She no longer looked like the reckless teenage witch he once knew, though she was a new version of her. She was grown, she was vibrant, she was beautiful in a different kind of way.

Looking at him now closer than before, Zelda could see that Faustus himself had been changing little by little. His eyes no longer seemed mature, but merely  _hardened,_ his hair darker, and his posture a bit more demanding. They were still who they once were, that was more apparent than ever. Clearly, they were both dishevelled, but neither needed to ask why. Faustus was furious with good reason and he assumed that Zelda had just learned of Edward's mortal engagement. Of course she was terrified, she was too damn smart to be anything else.

Which is why he won that round. She'd ran to  _him,_ she'd knocked on  _his_ door, and she'd breathed  _his_ name first. Of course, he murmured hers mere seconds after before capturing her lips with his own and leading her inside, but even Zelda would agree that he'd fully won that round.


	3. Pt. III

And then, Faustus Blackwood and Zelda Spellman were apart once more. Although, they'd occasionally caught rare glimpses of each other here and there - mostly at dark mass. Because, Zelda had experienced a rather uncharacteristic reaction once she'd learned that while she'd been overseas, Faustus had become engaged to be married.

He hadn't told her this himself, and had Zelda known, she might have done things a little differently during her brother's ordainment ceremony. She'd slept with a man who had already promised his hand in marriage to another. It wasn't the first time, by no means, but this time around seemed to hit a little closer to home. She'd known Constance vaguely while at the Academy, she was a fine young woman. There was nothing damnable or unseemly about her, she was rather perfect. Which is precisely why Zelda never did understand where any kind of attraction between her and Faustus came from. On both ends.

Faustus loved to be thrilled, while Constance was regular in the best possible way. She was reliable, forthright, and willing to please. She was not a challenge. She'd likely fallen under his spell due to the sheer amount of power that the man held, as most women did.

In reality, it really hadn't even been Faustus' idea to get married. It was the Dark Lord who had suggested to him through a rather untimely revelation that he was destined to have a wife. That being said, Faustus wanted to get it over with. Which is why he decided to put a ring on the finger of the woman that he was currently sleeping with. He didn't love her by no means, he didn't even think that he was  _capable_ of such a mortal emotion. But, he knew that if he  _could,_ time would likely lead him to love her should they attempt to spend eternity together.

It had been Edward that told Zelda of his past mentor's engagement to Constance, and he hadn't realized that it would drain all the colour from his older sister's face. He unfortunately had not been under any suspicions that his sister was a chaste celibate witch and he knew full well that she'd even slept with Faustus Blackwood here and there back in their Academy days. What he didn't realize, however, or even come to ponder, was the fact that there might be some underlying subliminal feelings left lingering.

But, after watching his sister uncontrollably react to the unexpected news and proceed to cover up the fact that she even cared at all told Edward Spellman everything that he needed to know. He couldn't help but pity his sister, knowing that Faustus likely never reciprocated an emotional reaction to her. It was widely known that anyone who dared to fall in love with Faustus Blackwood would only ever be forced into insanity.

What Edward didn't know was that his mentor was simply very good at disguising his very real emotions. So much so that even Faustus himself didn't realize just how much he felt for Zelda Spellman. Because, he'd always told himself that no feelings were good feelings, and therefore that he'd never let himself become emotionally attached to anything as it would likely lead to his own undoing and untimely demise.

Zelda herself lived life with a very similar outlook. Though she felt deeply and remorselessly. She loved her family more than anything in any realm, but she had a funny way of showing it. In fact, she wasn't vocal or demonstrative about her emotions because she found it downright embarrassing to admit that there are things that she  _loves._ That was one thing that her and Faustus had always agreed upon, though they'd never spoken those words aloud to each other.

But, enough about the trials and tribulations of  _feelings,_ another round of the game was in effect, and both Zelda and Faustus were at the edge of their seats, waiting to see how it would play out.

Zelda was fiercely panicking, though she so wished that she wasn't. She knew very well that Faustus likely wouldn't be faithful to Constance throughout their marriage, but what if by some miracle of fate, he  _was?_ What if the night after Edward's ordainment truly was the  _last_ time? She hadn't even cherished it, committed it to memory forevermore. The most painful part of it all was now that Zelda was back in Greendale permanently living across the wood in an old house with her sister, she hadn't much to do. Thus got her to thinking about how she'd usually pass her free time years ago when she lived here.

The truth of the matter was that when she was not studying, she was either partying or spending her  _time,_ so to speak, with young Faustus Blackwood. She'd finished her studies now and partying wasn't really an option as Zelda had grown from a young adult into a young woman, there wasn't much of a party scene among her few close acquaintances anymore. That left Faustus, and he was different.

He was colder than usual, hardened from the trials of his ferocious life. Besides, he was getting married. And it's not like they were ever  _friends._ It's not as if Zelda could seek his presence for anything but eventual physical satisfaction. Though there were days that she so wanted to.

The worst part of it all was that whenever she saw him casually around the coven, at events, at mass, he kept her at a solidly icy distance. He never even looked at her, let alone speak to her, and when he did, it was as if his sight went right through her. He spat out formal and perfectly appropriate responses to her words and he never overstep, he didn't even seem like he  _wanted_ to.

It was because of the way that he treated her like a positively insipid stranger that Zelda wondered if perhaps their game had finally come to an end. When he overlooked her, it wasn't like before. It wasn't because he was tempting her to see if she'd crack under his impulsive ignorance, he was not luring her to his bed. And because of all this, she found that when she spoke to him, it was more to see what kind of reaction she'd get out of him, as opposed to attempting to persuade him to give in to his sensual desires.

Little did Zelda Spellman know, their game was  _far_ from over.

Faustus had not been acting that way coincidentally. Instead, he feared that it might be necessary. He was losing sleep over his upcoming wedding. The union of his eternal soul with another. Marriage had never been anything that he'd been interested in and no be quite candid, he remained rather unchanged about that. He'd been pondering ferociously whether or not he'd have to be faithful and monogamous during his marriage to Constance.

Satan knows he didn't  _want_ to be, so he left it up to the Dark Lord's will. During a personal Satanic confession of his own, Faustus asked the Dark Lord if he was meant to be with one woman and one woman only so long as he was bonded to her through marriage. His Unholiness responded quizzically. Revealing that while He Himself did not punish the weaknesses of witches and warlocks, and monogamy was never mentioned in the Satanic Bible. But, it was not up to Him. He would overlook Faustus' unfaithfulness should he need, but Constance may not be able to. She had expressed quite clearly that she was expecting monogamy, that Faustus' philandering days were behind him. Which left him with a choice to make.

But, the only reason that Faustus was marrying Constance was based on a whim, so he decided that he would try his hardest for her. But, when it came down to it, what she didn't know wouldn't kill her. For the time being, he chose to believe that he truly would never break the binding contract of their marriage and all that it entailed, he had no plans to cheat on her in any way. Which is precisely why he couldn't even hazard a  _look_ into Zelda Spellman's stormy eyes.

Of course, she simply thought that he'd lost interest. That he suddenly found her undesirable,  _boring,_ old news. And yes, it crushed her deep down inside, but she believed that she should have seen it coming. And she so  _wished_ that she no longer felt anything for the infuriating man. She wished that it didn't bother her to the ends of the earth when he ignored her almost to an obvious extend.

Nearly a whole year had passed, and Zelda had all but come to terms with the fact that Faustus Blackwood was never to be a part of her life again. She should have been perfectly fine with that, seeing as he wasn't supposed to be anything more than a quick and dirty screw in the first place. She told herself that she felt positively rejuvenated without the trials of a psychopathic warlock in her life, but in reality, she was merely acting more self-righteous than usual out of sheer embarrassment and perhaps even a hint of heartache.

So, Zelda Spellman did what Zelda Spellman did best - she filled the dark voids in her life with inappropriate things. She opened up a  _mortuary,_ of all things, to be run right out of her home alongside her sister Hilda. She took in her long estranged teenage nephew after he'd been sentenced to house arrest for the next seventy-five years, she drank far too many spirits, she dressed all in various shades of black, she chain smoked far more often than not, and she took the most insensible of men into her bed night after night. She did not need  _Faustus Blackwood_ to be a bad witch, she never had.

She didn't even know that she was still  _playing_ that game, but she was already winning.

Because, it turned out that Zelda never needed to play along and work her charms in order to keep Faustus under her spell. In fact, it almost worked  _better_ now that she wasn't even trying. He simply couldn't resist her. He was having a hard enough time wondering how he would go the rest of his life without ever being with another witch again let alone wondering how he would never get to write in shared ecstasy with Zelda Spellman at least once more.

It was the night before his wedding, of all nights, that he realized he could never do it. Somehow, it seemed better of him to cheat on Constance while they were merely engaged as opposed to fully married, that was what he told himself as he made a beeline for the Spellman residence.

Though it was the middle of the night, Zelda had been standing in the darkness of her kitchen with only a candle to guide her way. She couldn't sleep. Originally, she'd been in search of a nice cup of tea that she could maybe mix a sleep potion into. Instead, she found herself sitting at her kitchen counter in nothing but a nightgown sipping on a freshly poured cup of vodka as she contemplated whether or not to light up a smoke even though she'd misplaced her cigarette holder.

When she'd heard the knock on the door that, in all honesty, sounded more like vicious pounding, her initial thought was that someone must be dead. She ran a mortuary, people knocked on her door  _daily_ to inform her that people have died. But, only those who knocked in the dead of the night came to tell her that  _her_ people have died.

Bracing herself for whatever stood opposite her door, Zelda let her long nightgown drag behind her as she moved towards the door and curiously opened it without even looking through the window nor the peephole before doing so. She certainly wasn't expecting to see Faustus Blackwood standing there, completely at her mercy.

He looked positively dishevelled. He didn't wear a coat nor a hat nor even a pair of gloves, he must have left the comforts of his home in a frantic hurry. The look in his eyes told her that. It also told her that he was not here bringing bad news, he was here in a panic of  _lust._ In those eyes she saw a desire for  _her_ in a way that she hadn't seen from him in nearly a year. A way that she thought she'd never see again.

"Faustus?" She breathed in a lowered voice, confused as to why he now found himself in her threshold. She stepped to the side as he practically barged into her house, staring at her so intensely that she thought she might melt under his heated scrutiny.

"I'm getting married tomorrow." He spoke in a darkly rushed voice that she could barely make sense of, his eyes as wide and unpredictable as his movement. Zelda narrowed her own eyes as he let the door shut behind himself, wondering what on earth he was going on about.

" _So?"_ She responded in confusion, shaking her head slightly as Faustus turned to face her and took her face in his hands ever so unconventionally. Zelda's eyes widened and she gasped upon feeling his tender touch, her mind was racing. He'd been going about his life acting as though she'd never meant anything to him, but looking into his eyes now refuted that theory. The way that he held her face in his hands and scoured her eyes for a bit of truth told her that he'd been fighting this moment for quite some time.

"So, I'm here  _tonight."_ His voice was merely a whisper and he watched a flicker of understanding grace Zelda's eyes before he leaned in a closed the distance between their lips. Puling back moments later when neither of them could breathe, Faustus continued to hold her cheek in his hand and let himself study her serene face for a minute. How he honestly thought he could go without her for the rest of his life was now utterly lost upon him.

Zelda seemed to understand everything based on the few words that he'd said, his frenzied actions, and the unmeasurable look in his blue eyes. He had never intended to cast her aside following his engagement, he  _had_ to. She knew that now. She knew that he was not playing their game when he ignored her, he was doing what was right in the eyes of his future wife.

But, he could only hold out for so long. Frankly, it was an immense relief to Zelda who had been pondering intensely just  _why_ Faustus had suddenly lost interest in her. Again, she was forced to remind herself that she didn't care. But even  _she_ knew that eventually, she would have to stop lying to herself. She cared far more than she liked to admit.

He stayed the night, and because of that, Zelda was immensely grateful that Hilda had been off at some gardening fair all weekend and that Ambrose's attic chambers usually blocked out all other noises from around the house. The act itself had been prolonged and sinfully sweet. They ravaged each other again and again and when bits of light finally began to peak through the curtains, Faustus was far too exhausted to pry himself from the bed and begin the cruelly cool journey home to a house that he had no interest in living in. Instead, he allowed his redheaded opposition to sleep in his arms as his clawed fingers traced patterns on her bare freckled shoulders.

In fact, he didn't even leave before she awoke, something that had always been rare for the both of them. This might have been because Zelda woke first, only moments prior. She had to admit, there was something rather deliciously satisfying about waking up to someone else's groom on his own wedding day. In the future, there were times that Zelda would come to hate herself for what they did to Constance, for depriving that poor woman of an innocent wedding. But, for the most part, she was just glad that it had happened.

She was glad to be able to gaze upon a sinfully handsome bare-chested man laying in her bed with his arms wrapped around her delicate body as morning sunlight poured into the usually dark room.

She'd closed her eyes again and rested her head on his chest before feeling him stir awake minutes later. His fingers had twitched against her skin before he tangled them in her hair, causing her to look up at him through tired but pleasant eyes. " _Zelda_ -" he began, though he truly had no idea what he was about to say to her.

"Don't," she began with a whisper, shaking her head almost sadly, "don't say anything." They both sat up and stared each other in the eyes. "Just go." Zelda's voice was not particularly bitter nor demanding, and the look on her face was understanding. It was warm, and it was hauntingly melancholic. "Go get married, Faustus."

She tucked a curl behind her ear and nodded silently, encouraging him to leave her and go  _live_ his life. Faustus sighed rather miserably and hazarded one last glance in her direction before leaning over and kissing her forehead ever so tenderly.

Zelda closed her eyes and leaned into his gesture of what could have been appreciation, sentimentality, or nothing at all, before Faustus lifted himself out of bed, silently dressed, and left the Spellman house.

He'd chosen the middle of October to wed Constance, and that was the only year that Zelda Spellman had  _despised_ her favourite season.


	4. Pt. IV

Life in Greendale remained steadfast for the next decade.

Edward Spellman had struck up yet another deal with the Dark Lord, granting him semi-mortality, as the others in the coven had taken to calling it. In reality, he was not mortal, he had been born a full warlock and had the powers - and the title as High Priest of the Church of Night - to prove it. But, he'd gotten married. Diana Spellman was merely a mortal, though in his eyes there was nothing mere about her.

Nonetheless, a decision had to be made. Did Diana wish to be granted a semi-mortality of her own so that she would not age alongside her husband, or did Edward wish to have his aging cycle appear mortal so that he could age with his wife? In the end, they both agreed upon the latter, specifically because neither could know whether or not their children - if they ever had any of their own - would wish to follow down the path of Night.

Diana knew that her future children would be half-mortals, and therefore would face a decision on their sixteenth birthday. She did not know whether or not they might wish to sign their name in the Book of the Beast. But, if they chose not to, she knew that she couldn't bear to watch her mortal children age and wither before her own immortal eyes. Of course, what she couldn't know, was that her husband had already signed away the name of his future daughter, leaving her without any choice in the matter whatsoever.

Diana remained ignorant when it came to how exactly Edward had been granted permission by the Dark Lord to take her hand in marriage, and that secret remained with him and his sister Zelda until death did them part.

And boy, dd it ever.

Edward and Diana Spellman died how they lived- mysteriously. Though, any witch or warlock who had any brains about them at all knew that the Spellmans had been walking the razor's edge since their marriage. Specifically, Zelda Spellman. The very moment that she'd  _met_ Diana and heard of her supposedly blessed engagement to her brother that had been miraculously supported by the Dark Lord, she knew that it wasn't that simple.

There was no way in Hell nor on earth that Satan himself would ever let Himself be played that way. He would not sit back and bless the marriage of a mortal and a warlock an then proceed to grant said warlock with the title of High Priest. Not a chance. And yet, that was how everything had fabricated. And, to anyone else, it didn't seem like a problem at all. It seemed like a dream come true, like a miracle in the name of true love.

Zelda knew better.

She knew that it was all gloriously too good to be true. This was the  _Devil_ they were dealing with, after all. He wasn't known for being the most forgiving of entities, there were False Gods for that. Especially after discovering that Edward had promised the Dark Lord the name of his first born child in exchange for marrying Diana, Zelda knew that her brother was all part of some higher scheme that was inevitably unfolding before her very eyes.

And she had a gut feeling that Edward was about to be used as an example. The Dark Lord used him to display to his followers that no one should ever get too comfortable when disobeying the dark laws, no matter what position that witch or warlock may hold. Watching a High Priest be shot down in his prime for daring to marry a mortal - now  _that_ was a power move.

When Edward and Diana had informed the rest of their family that they were to be taking a voyage overseas and gave no real reason as to why, Zelda sensed in her very core that this may be  _it._ The last time that she would ever see her brother. The young couple's baby girl, Sabrina, was placed in the care of Zelda and Hilda for the duration of her parents' trip, and everything was all laid out perfectly for the hoofed paw of  _fate_ to snuff out the light

And he did, as the plane never reached its destination and instead crashed into the stormy waves of the unforgiving ocean, taking the lives of its passengers. And with that, Edward and Diana Spellman were taken care of. He had come so far along his path at the Church of Night, made it to High Priest, even. But, he'd grown cocky in his position and put the love that he felt for Diana above it and his devotion to the Dark Lord. He'd defied witch law by asking for her hand in marriage and now he was paying the price.

The Dark Lord had killed the Spellmans, but left their infant daughter - eternally destined to belong to Satan Himself - alive and kicking. Just as a cruel reminder that no matter how much power one might believe they have, there is no one more powerful than the Dark Lord. Not even the daughter of Edward Spellman, the man who made deals with the Devil and truly thought that everything might work out in his favour. Freedom or power, never both. Edward Spellman had been famous for craving both, and Satan had showed him that he'd never be granted his wishes.

After Edward and Diana had taken off, Zelda Spellman had spent the night pacing around her dark home, awaiting news that she feared was inevitable. It was the dead of the night, and she was contemplating pouring herself another cup of brandy when the phone rang. She let it ring twice, bracing herself for the news that she already knew was on the other line. The shrill ring of the telephone echoed off the walls like it was laughing at her.

When she couldn't take any more of it, she answered it with her heart suddenly in her throat. She couldn't even bring herself to answer as she normally would, no matter the circumstances - " _Spellman Sister's Mortuary, this is Zelda."_ Instead, all she could manage was a weak "Hello?" And even then, it was barely above a broken whisper.

There was a pause, before someone finally answered her. "Miss Spellman?" A low voice on the other end of the phone responded, and Zelda could already hear the pity in his otherwise empty voice.

"Yes?" She breathed, an unwanted tear already brewing in her eye, ready to fall at any moment. She wasn't usually quite so weak and emotional, but when it came to her brother, her emotions often failed her.

"Zelda, it's..." The voice wavered, clearly unsure how to approach whatever it was that he was about to deliver, and Zelda suddenly knew exactly who was on the other end, "... it's Faustus."

Of course it was him, she really should have recognized his unmistakable voice earlier. It was only right that Faustus Blackwood was calling to inform her of Edward Spellman's tragic death, he was his mentor and - she just realized - would likely be filling her brother's position as High Priest. She nearly rolled her eyes with a bitter scoff upon coming across that particular realization.

"My brother is dead." She wasn't posing a question, she wasn't crying out in agony, she had stated a supposed fact that she wanted him to confirm. That tear in her eye never fell and her voice was utterly hollow, reflecting merely the broken shadow of what it had once been. Even her senses were far away as she held that cold telephone receiver to her ear.

There was a pause on the other line, and Zelda could practically  _see_ Faustus closing his eyes with a sigh, wondering just why  _he_ had to have been given the pleasure of granting her the phone call that she likely already knew was coming.

He exhaled rather sharply, almost unwilling to speak the words. "Yes." Faustus finally said, his own voice filled with a surprised amount of guilt and sorrow. He should have been rejoicing - his competition had just been killed of. The world was at his feet, Faustus had always been loyal to the Dark Lord before anything else and  _finally,_ he was getting what he deserved out of his devotion. Him and Zelda both knew that he should have been nothing but smug and excited to wear his new title.

But, even Faustus' unknowing involvement was all part of the Dark Lord's plan. Had Edward not planned on being such a problem, Satan would have granted Faustus the title of High Priest  _decades_ ago, as he was the much more suitable candidate. But, in order for Edward's death to mean all that it needed to, the m an would need to sit in a powerful throne before his life came to a tragic end. Faustus was merely the collateral damage for the time being, but after Edward's death, he would receive all that was coming to him.

"Thank you..." Zelda began, and now her voice shook with emotion as she whispered into the phone, "... for the phone call." Her tone had trailed on and her words were so quiet that they were nearly lost upon Faustus, who had to strain to hear her. He sighed, fearing that this was how she would react.

"Zelda -" he had attempted to catch her before she inevitably hung up, but he heard her end click off before she could respond. Maybe that was for the best, he hadn't a clue what he was to say to her, anyways. Nonetheless, he held his own telephone in his hand for a moment longer, staring at it as if it was the woman herself. He knew that she'd been crying, he had no idea how she would conduct herself, how she would tell her family, how she might finish the night. But, it wasn't his place to wonder.

By all means, he shouldn't have cared. He had just been granted everything that he'd ever  _wanted,_ he should have been celebrating. So, why did he feel so remorseful? If guilt or pity had anything to do with it, he knew that he should have slapped himself for succumbing to such  _mortal_ emotions. But, perhaps, some things just couldn't be helped.

He spent that evening in his office at the Academy. He was currently merely a professor at the school, but he'd come to realize that it was likely the last night he'd spend in his small office near the washrooms. Come tomorrow, he'd be moved over to the second floor of the Academy where his office could be the size of a classroom. After all, he was the dean now, that came with the responsibility of being High Priest.

Perhaps, it was the sentimentality of it all, his rather unchecked complicated emotions surrounding Edward's death, or his unnerving phone call with Zelda Spellman that lead Faustus to remain in his cold office for the night. Well that, plus the fact that he had no interest in going home to his wife. It hadn't taken him long at all to realize that he had eternally confined himself to a marriage that he wanted nothing to do with in the first place.

All his spare time spent in solidarity unfortunately lead him to thinking about the situation. Edward's death had been inevitable, that was no secret to him. Not only was it inevitable, it was rather beneficial to Faustus himself, and for that, he truly was grateful. All in all, it should have been a good thing, a  _proper_ turn of events that had now set them all back on the right path.

The worst part of it all, was Zelda Spellman. Of course, the rest of Edward's family would suffer while they mourned his death, but Zelda had always been different. She was far too bright to think that his death wasn't a long time coming, which had likely produced a state of constant dread for her in the first place. But, she was such a complex person that the death of her brother would likely do things to her that weren't beneficial in the slightest. Though happiness is said to be a mortal emotion, it is accepted to be essential in any witch or warlock. Zelda Spellman's hardened front already excluded her from things such as basic  _joy,_ losing her brother would likely only send her running from her emotions even faster than she always did.

And for some strange reason, Zelda's pain was now the only thing preventing Faustus from being perfectly pleased with how everything had turned out. And that enraged him. He had been so looking forward to this moment, so ready to wear the title of High Priest and finally step away from Edward's consuming shadow. But, he couldn't even celebrate properly thanks to the fact that he knew that somewhere across the woods, Zelda Spellman was shedding tears.

He blamed it on his connection to the Spellman family. He couldn't deny that he'd been affiliated with them on a personal level, he was Edward's mentor. Perhaps because of this or perhaps for more personal reasons, he'd also come to know Zelda on many levels. He had every right to feel bad for her and to empathize for her loss, even if it did benefit him in the long run.

He contemplated calling back, but knew that it would only go one of three ways. A damaging of his pride, a bitter conversation, or no answer at all. And after those intrusive thoughts had been chased from his mind, he actually had to resist the urge to arrive on her doorstep and to come face to face with her and perhaps attempts to console some of the pain that she must be feeling.

It was then that he had to remind himself that it wasn't who they were. They only stood on each other's stoops when it came down to winning or losing their little game of physical lust. They were not the type of people who ran to each other in the dead of the night simply seeking emotional comfort.

So, Faustus poured himself a cup of whiskey while Zelda chain smoked in her kitchen as she stared out the window and waited for the sun to come up. It would be a long night, but she would be damned if she was about to wake her sister or nephew only to tell them that Edward and Diana had perished. She could suffer through the next several hours alone, she'd grown accustomed to doing so.


	5. Pt. V

Though the Spellmans had hoped for a quiet funeral and a tasteful service, they knew that it was a pipe dream.

Edward had been the High Priest, and Diana had been a fabled mortal woman who had married a powerful warlock. Everything about them had always been a spectacle, including their funeral. Usually, the High Priest would conduct the service, but because Edward had  _been_ the High Priest and it had in fact been written in his dark will that Professor Barlow from the Academy conduct his funeral, even the Dark Lord agreed that the least anyone could do was respect Edward's final wishes.

Barlow had been Edward's favourite professor, he'd introduced him to conjuring and was more than willing to perform the ceremony. Besides, Faustus was only in the process of becoming ordained, and technically did not yet possess the power to do so just yet. Of course, it might seem a little distasteful to show his face at the funeral, all things considered. He contemplated this, and he wasn't sure what ended up getting the better of him - his pride, concern, or curiosity.

There were many reasons that Faustus wanted to attend the funereal. First and foremost, to boast his presence around the coven as he'd been appointed their new High Priest. But, more than just that, he was truly concerned for how Zelda Spellman was handling herself through this trying time. His concern went hand in hand with his curiosity - would he even  _recognize_ her after all she'd been through? It was a perfect mixture of these considerations that persuaded Faustus to dare to show up to the funeral on that cold, rainy afternoon.

Even though it was a rather grand and overly-embellished affair, the funeral truly did offer some closure to Edward's family. Twenty minutes before the service was set to begin, Hilda and Ambrose - clad in black - sat in the front row of the chapel, refusing to use their own mortuary to commit Edward's body to the ground. In her arms, Hilda held a five month old baby that had just begun to sprout thin blonde hair from the top of her innocent head. The babe looked at the world around her in wonder, completely unaware that she was currently attending her parents' funeral.

The church was nearly filled to its capacity with members of the coven, professors from the Academy, and even mortal relatives of Diana that had been deemed safe to invite. And, at the very back of the room, clad in an appropriate sheer black dress with a velvet cape, was Zelda Spellman. She stood alone, waving away anyone and everyone who dared attempt to offer her their condolences.

She did not wish to sit with her sister and the spawn of Edward at the front of the room. They both had his brown eyes, and they were too painful to hazard a glance into. The door of the chapel had been opened and closed relentlessly as attendees entered the church, which is why Zelda had no idea that her eyes darted to the door when it opened this time around.

But, she was grateful that they did, because it allowed her to gain the upper hand almost immediately upon seeing Faustus Blackwood attempt to grace the church with his unwanted presence. In a moment, her eyes hardened as she stepped harshly towards the man, who now looked her sharply and almost daringly in the eyes. "What in  _Satan's_ name do you think you're doing here?" She sneered at him, straightening her back upon coming face to face with him so as to appear taller in comparison to his already advantageous height.

Faustus looked around as if he hadn't a clue what she was talking about, which was nothing if not insulting to the mourning witch. "Paying my respects, Miss Spellman." He spoke as if it was that simple, as if he hadn't had some kind of involvement in Edward's death. Really, he  _didn't,_ but he couldn't say that he didn't suspect the outcome all along.

"No." Zelda shook her head, but couldn't seem to think of anything else to say. Much to her own displeasure, she felt a swarm of hot, unwanted tears pooling up in her eyes. She hated crying in front of people, especially when she was attempting to come off as threatening, which was most of the time.

"No?" He repeated, noting the tears in her eyes and softening his glance, biting his tongue to prevent himself from asking if that was any way she should be speaking to her High Priest. That particular statement wouldn't help anything, and he realized that he truly didn't  _want_ to hurt her.

" _No,_ you... you  _can't_ be here." Finally, everything that had been building up to this moment was about to come rushing out. Zelda needed an outlet, she needed someone to blame, and who better than the man who had been her brother's mentor, who was supposed to support and protect him, and who now stole his title right out from under his lifeless body. The man who had called in the middle of the night to inform her of Edward's death.  _That_ was who she was choosing to blame in this particular moment.

"Zelda, there's no reason to -" Faustus had begun to speak, but hadn't managed to get more than a few words out because the redheaded woman before him was now shaking with tears and clenching her fists in despair.

"Faustus, I  _can't..._ you shouldn't..." Though her words were jumbled and messy, the message was clear thanks to the furious fire behind her eyes as her cheeks reddened with anger. "I can't  _see_ you  _here!"_ She was almost shouting now, and she let her tears fall freely down her cheeks as she balled up her fists and began to shove him away from her. "You should  _never_ have come!" Though she was pushing him away, it was almost as if with every shove, she was sinking into him,  _begging_ to be held tightly in his firm grasp and not let go of until she'd cried her very last tear.

And he was about to do just that, honest to Satan, he truly was. But, as Zelda had cried at him to "Get out!" one last time, Ambrose had appeared beside her and pulled his Aunt away from Faustus, who sent her one last look of meaningful understanding and a bit of rage before leaving the chapel just as quickly as he had arrived.

From that moment on, Zelda Spellman had come undone.

All the bottled up emotions that she'd felt since learning of Edward's death were pouring out of her, and there was absolutely no stopping them. Unchecked aggression, explosive rage, incomparable sadness, utter hopelessness. She wished that she could have done more to prevent it from happening, she wished that her and Faustus hadn't just sat there and let Edward think that he'd live out a perfect little life with his perfect little family only to have the Dark Lord take everything away from him.

Zelda wished that she'd gone to Faustus earlier and begged him - no, she would not have been above begging - to look past his greed and desire for the name of the High Priest to help her and her brother. She hadn't a clue whether or not he'd give in to her please, but at least she would have  _tried,_ at the very least.

She could only sit through the ceremony before she'd headed back to the house, all by herself. Leaving Hilda and Ambrose to mill around the guests and receive condolences. Zelda had no desire in letting the loss of her brother fester inside that rancid church, she needed an outlet. She needed some way to get all of her feelings out, in whatever way possible.

t didn't take but an hour for her to decide upon arriving at Faustus Blackwood's office door at the Academy - knowing full well that he hadn't gone home to Constance after his disastrous appearance at the funeral.

She did not knock. Instead, she barged in, allowing the echoing sound of her heeled shoes on the marble floor announce her arrival. Upon noticing her appearance in his office, Faustus stood slowly, unsure how to read her. The look in her eyes was something unlike anything he'd seen in a very long time. Clearly, she was struggling to come to terms with what had happened to her brother and she was slowly but surely going through the stages of grief, but it was more than just that. There was fury behind those blue-green eyes, fury that might just be revealing itself through physical desire. He really had no idea what was going through her head, but he had a feeling that he was about to find out.

"Miss Spellman," he began tiredly with a sharp sigh, knowing full well that it drove her mad when he referred to her using such a formal title. It made her feel beneath him, which technically, she was, "if you're here to finish what you started back at the church, just know how entirely inappropriate that -"

"Have you no  _conscience_ at all, Faustus Blackwood?" There it was - the rage. If that was the first emotion that would make itself known that evening, so be it. Frankly, Faustus didn't have time for her mental breakdowns right now, but something kept him intrigued.

" _Me?"_ He gaped, taken aback at her utter disrespect for him. Even if he was newly appointed, he was still the High Priest of her very own church. "What in Satan's name does this have to do with  _me,_ pray tell?" He had raised his voice to match hers, never one to back away from her battle cries.

"It has  _everything_ to do with  _you!"_ She threw her arms out to the side in an attempt to display just how angry she was. Very rarely did  Zelda Spellman lose control of her emotions as she had done earlier at the chapel and as she was clearly about to do the same here in the dean's office at the Academy of Unseen Arts.

"By all means,  _Zelda._ Tell me  _how!"_ He demanded, ready and waiting to slap down any argument she attempted to throw at him. Faustus stepped away from his desk and walked around it to come face to face with the belligerent witch. The game was on, but it didn't appear to be their usual game. they were back to fighting their wards, and it was always interesting to see who came out on top.

" _How?_ Just  _look_ at you! Sitting here wearing  _his_ stole, sitting at  _his_ desk, reading  _his_ old books! You can't  _possibly_ look me in the eyes and tell me that this isn't  _exactly_ what you've always wanted!" As she shouted, she began to cry once more, and she wished that he would stop coming so close to her as it tempted her so to throw herself into his strong arms.

" _Yes!"_ He said sharply, looking her in the eyes as she'd told him to do. "It is  _precisely_ what I wanted. And I  _am_ sorry for your loss,  _Sister Zelda,_ but you can't put the blame on me." He spat out her name, simply to remind her of her status - or lack there of.

"But, you  _knew!"_ She didn't even bother trying to wipe the tears from her face as she took in a shaky breath and grabbed at the fabric of his shirt near his chest in anger. "you  _knew_ and you did  _nothing_ about it!"

" _You_ knew just as well as I did!" Faustus yelled back at her, and Zelda blinked in realization. Yes, he was right. She was just as much to blame as he was. More so. Faustus had no business looking out for Edward, he was  _her_ brother,  _she_ should have done everything in her power to prevent him from meeting his untimely death. She gasped slightly, attempting to form a rebuttal, but instead choked out a sob and gripped the fabric even harder,  _finally_ sinking into him to bury her head into her chest as she continued to cry. "I hate you." She whispered between sobs, though her heart wasn't in it.

Faustus had seen her breakdown coming, especially since he knew that she wasn't about to show such emotion to anyone at home - certainly not Hilda - he figured that she needed some kind of comfort. And if she had to pretend as though she was simply there to berate him, he could go along with it. Strangely enough, he'd always known just how to comfort her. Had it been anyone else, save for maybe his wife, he would have been sent running.

He didn't do emotions. He didn't stick around for the messy bits of people. He used, he abused, and he moved on. It had always been different with Zelda. He wasn't about to leave her crying there alone in his office, he didn't  _want_ to. Instead, he nodded his head before snaking his arms around her and pulling her closer towards him.

They stood that way for minutes, Zelda sobbing into his chest while he ran his hands up and down her back in a most comforting manner. when she finally steadied her ragged breathing, she pulled away from him ever so slightly to look up at his face. When Faustus met her glance, he immediately noted the change in her eyes and the desire deep within them.

So, there had been another shift, and the game was back on. The  _real_ game. Before even wiping the nearly dried tears from her cheeks, Zelda had stood on her toes to capture his lips in her own. Had it been anyone else, it would have been a bad idea. But, they were no stranger to using each other's bodies when their emotions began to fail them.

Faustus certainly had no reservations about stopping her to send her away, knowing full well that she was acting upon her sorrow and not much more. Zelda knew it too, but she also knew that he wouldn't judge her for taking out all of her emotions on him, he would simply be happy to have won this round of their game.

Their lips began to move in sync, picking up right where they'd left off about ten years ago. They hadn't even realized that it'd been so long since they'd last been together, but perhaps they were both just glad to know that they could still play their game even though Faustus was married.

It was when they pulled away momentarily to look into each other's eyes that they realized just how long it had been. And that was when their kisses became hungry, needy, and perhaps even  _sentimental._

Faustus brushed the hair from her face and held her cheek in his hand rather delicately as she began to unbutton his shirt. With his free hand, Faustus unzipped the back of her dress and moment later, everything that had once resided upon his heavy mahogany desk had been swept onto the floor in a rather reckless fashion.


	6. Part VI

The game that Zelda Spellman and Faustus Blackwood played continued throughout the decades.

It had started all the way back in their youth at the Academy, but it didn't seem to have an ending. It would likely be played eternally, and neither could say that they were disappointed by that fact. Their souls would always be rather magnetically charged, and quite frankly, they both enjoyed the reliability of it all.

Faustus liked the fact that he had  _finally_ begun to figure her out. He enjoyed familiarizing himself with her tendencies and her reactions and, dare he say, her  _emotions._

As for Zelda, there were many reasons that she liked him. He reminded her of her favourite season, it was no secret that she'd always loved the month of October. No matter how far from each other they strayed, no matter the decisions they made, the other people that they filled their lives with, no matter how much time had passed, eventually their game would come to a climax and a winner would need be named.

Faustus Blackwood always returned like the Autumn - reliably, briskly, and without fail. And, instead of the dying leaves from the trees, it's Zelda Spellman who falls every time.


End file.
